


Not After Everything

by diogenesdarling



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Anxiety, Dead Aunt May, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Irondad, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 12:57:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18811357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diogenesdarling/pseuds/diogenesdarling
Summary: Cap got the gauntlet, snapped, and Thanos' army disappeared. Peter found Tony, Peter found out Aunt May was lost in the 5 years of waiting for him to come back, and Peter found a new home with the Stark family.Connected one-shots within this storyline that look at how Peter tries to deal with everything, and how Tony helps him through it all.





	Not After Everything

Six weeks. It had been six weeks since the battle, six weeks since half the world came back, six weeks since Captain America had snapped his fingers — six weeks since Peter found out that May had died. A heart attack, two whole years ago. _Two years_. And Peter hadn’t been there.

 

Living with the Starks hadn’t been strange at first, Mr. Stark - Tony, he had insisted - had immediately given him a room in the tower. He had known about May. At least he had given her a farewell she deserved, with an elegant tombstone next to Ben’s. The first weeks had been nothing but confusion, heartache, anger, the works. Peter was glad Tony had decided to come back to the city, at least that was sort of familiar. Still not Queens, but close enough.

 

Morgan had made things tense, but good. Peter loved her with the strongest protective feelings he’d ever known the moment he met her, even through his distraught mist of grief. He was suddenly a son to new parents, an honorary brother to a four-year-old. He just wanted his aunt back. Morgan’s presence was comforting most of the time, but he forced himself to a level of interaction that a little kid could deal with. He didn’t want to scare her with his sobbing, or his weird new “coping mechanism” of puking when he got too upset. Yeah, a preschooler could go without that.

 

So he was pretending when she was in the room. Pretending he wasn’t falling apart, that he wasn’t absolutely freaked the hell out that he had been _dead_ for five years. He just tried not to think about that part too much, but he couldn't avoid thinking about May. The person that had been his mom for more than a decade, who had gotten him through first his parents’ passing, and then Ben’s. It had just been the two of them, together through it all. And now it was just…Peter.

 

The pretending didn’t seem to end with Morgan. He showed a little more of his true feelings around Ned, but not by much. Peter didn’t want to be a constant stress in his friend’s life, who was recovering from the snap as well. He had leaned on Ned when Ben had died and whenever Spider-Man needed help, and Ned never seemed to need the favor returned. The last thing Peter wanted was to alienate the one constant from his old life, before five years ago. Or however long it had been for the people who had turned to dust. It wasn’t five years at all for Peter. It was like the longest, most disorienting week of his life, but the end of the week never seemed to come. Time didn’t exist for Peter Parker anymore. He went to school, picked at his meals, pretended for Ned, pretended for Morgan, tried to sleep, didn’t do a great job at that, and started over again.

 

The most consistently reassuring thing in his life was Tony. From the battlefield all the way back to Peter’s new bathroom floor (thank God Peter made it to the toilet before puking his guts out that first night), Tony was there. He rubbed Peter’s back, helped him to bed, stayed with him until he seemed to fall asleep, and somehow showed up again as soon as he was awake. Peter didn’t know what he would have done if it weren’t for Tony. He honestly didn’t realize his mentor cared that much about him. And Tony’s presence, honestly, terrified him.

 

Six weeks in, and Peter had been back at school for one. He was a little later than most people getting back; most had returned after the national one-month chaotic reshuffle of reuniting, rehousing, re-everything. But he was back now, and regretting every second of it. If Tony’s presence in his life made him uneasy, then Tony’s absence could very well kill him. Through each period Peter could only distantly hope that _Tony’s still alive, he’s ok, he and Morgan are probably reading a book right now or prank calling Happy. Tony’s fine. Tony’s fine. Tony. Is. Fine._ And as soon as Peter got home and realized he was right, that Tony was walking and talking and absolutely fine, he immediately started worrying that he would have to watch something go wrong now that they were in the same room. Every deep sigh that Tony made, or cough, or little yelp if Morgan ran at him full-force, sent Peter spiraling.

 

Peter knew Tony was watching. He could feel Tony’s eyes on him when Peter was internally freaking out. Or maybe it wasn’t so internal — Peter never was very good at schooling his expressions. But they hadn’t talked about it. They talked about how Peter was doing in general, if he was ready to go back to school, how he felt about letting go of the apartment in Queens, but this they had not discussed. Peter was glad it was taboo for the moment. Sure, it was controlling his every waking moment, but at least he didn’t have to admit to Iron Man that he, a 17-year-old superhero, was completely dictated by not wanting to let Tony out of his sight for a second. Yeah, Peter thought he could handle it. It would probably ease up soon, right? One of those weird grief things that phases in and out until it becomes a small part of one big, messy memory?

 

That seemed to be that way to handle it. Until, of course, “Ignore the Giant Issue and Hope It Goes Away” became an insufficient coping method — until Tony choked.

 

It was Thursday evening, the second week of being back to school. Which meant it had been four days since Peter hadn’t had to leave home all day. Four days with very little sleep because he knew each night that the next day would be hell. They were all eating spaghetti since Morgan had wanted to make dinner; she wanted to stir a big pot of something with her purple wooden spoon. Pepper was trying to show Morgan how to wrangle a meatball properly, and when Morgan reached to try her elbow hit Tony’s glass of water. It shattered, Morgan jumped, Tony jerked back slightly. Just enough to inhale a little too sharply. Just enough to choke for a moment. Tony coughed twice and was fine, his face was a little red from the surprise, and then he promptly cleaned up the mess while reassuring Morgan that it wasn’t a big deal. 

 

Peter, on the other hand, was frozen.

 

He couldn’t move, his eyes were suddenly glued to a spot beyond the table, staring vacantly between Tony and Morgan. His fingers still held on to his fork, hand completely still, and he absently noticed that his leg was bouncing up and down quickly. His breaths were shallow and long, his mouth shut and teeth clenched. He stayed the same until Tony sat back down. He felt locked in, stuck with no way to free himself. Tony went to take another bite but stopped, arm paused in motion.

 

“Pete? You alright?” He asked. Pepper looked at him, eyes darting. Morgan stared. Peter was silent.

 

“Hey, kiddo…” Tony reached over and rubbed Peter’s arm. Peter finally unlocked his gaze and looked at Tony, their concerned expressions matching perfectly.

 

“Are you okay?” Peter whispered with a rattling voice. Tony cocked his head.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m more worried about you. Wanna put that fork down for a sec?”

 

Peter looked down at his hand. Oh. The fork was tapping against his plate loudly, his hands shaking and off-beat from his bouncing leg. He wondered why he hadn’t noticed when that started. He dropped the fork with less grace than he intended and it clattered off the plate and onto the table. For some reason, Peter felt as if his chair were covered in needles. He pushed back and stood, and Tony followed suit.

 

“Peter, what’s the matter?” Pepper asked, but going by her face her question was directed more at Tony.

 

“I need to…I’m…” Peter could feel his chest tightening, his mouth fell open. “I’m sorry,” was all he was able to get out. He looked at Tony and felt the edges of his vision get dark. He moved his eyes from pleading to searching, watching as Tony’s chest moved up and down, up and down. Up and down and…closer? Peter felt a hand go around his arm on each side and knew his feet were moving, being directed. He sat down heavily on something, and a warm guide pushed his head forward and down. He wrapped his own hands around his ankles and tried to focus on how his heels connected to the floor while the rest of him floated. A very familiar feeling ran along his back. What was…oh. Tony. Tony who was alive and fine and rubbing his back.

 

Soft words hit his ears. “It’s alright, kid. Deep breaths, you’re ok. We’re all ok. Morgan’s ok, Pep’s ok, I’m ok, you’re ok. In and out, Pete. I’ve gotcha.”

 

The words cut through the mortification of _falling apart because all Tony did was clear his throat._ Peter simultaneously never wanted to look Tony in the eyes again and needed to see him, to make sure he wasn’t a really, really realistic figment of Peter’s imagination. He sat up and looked at Tony, who was staring back with the most patient and worried gaze Peter had ever seen.

 

“Alright?” He asked quietly. Peter nodded. No, he wasn’t alright. Obviously. But he nodded.

 

Tony stared at him some more, then suddenly stood. Peter freaked. He was leaving, walking away. Going to another room, where Peter couldn’t see him and check on him and — Tony sat down in the corner of the sectional couch, a few feet away. He kicked off his shoes, threw his feet up, slouched down, and threw a pillow on his side. 

 

“C’mere, Pete,” he said, punching the pillow lightly. “I want you to put your head down for a minute.” 

 

Peter immediately listened, even though every step he felt like less of the nearly grown person he knew he should be and more like the kid he somehow couldn’t leave behind. He crashed onto his side on the couch, head on the pillow, perfectly perpendicular to Tony. As soon as Tony put a hand on his head he deflated, shoulders slumped. Tony had realized early into the six weeks that Peter responded to hugs, back rubs, and playing with his hair better than anything else. It worked almost every time, Peter would immediately start to calm down. This time was no different.

 

Peter focused on taking deep, slow breaths. This certainly wasn’t the first time he had a, what? Episode? in the last month and a half. It was the first Tony had seen, and the first in a while where he had frozen like that in front of everyone, but the same thing had happened plenty of times since he heard about May. Dozens, probably, since Ben. Since his parents? Probably approaching a solid 100.

 

He knew the absolute terror would pass, that he would figure out that no, Tony wasn’t dying before his eyes. And then it would happen again. And again. Maybe forever, who knew.

 

Eventually, he could hear Morgan helping Pepper clear the table. The flicked soapy water at each other, just like every night, and Morgan would bring her favorite toys of the day for “leftovers” at the table while she drew them a picture. It was a nice routine. Usually Tony would work on some project or another right next to her while Pepper sent emails, but tonight Tony was still rubbing a hand over and over through Peter’s hair. Then his back, then softly grabbed his neck and squeezed reassuringly, then back to his hair.Peter floated, in a less existential fashion now, as he listened to Tony breathe. He surprised himself when he spoke.

 

“Tony?” He whispered, halfway hoping he wouldn’t be heard.

 

“Hmm?” 

 

Dammit. Now he had to follow through. Peter took a moment to find the words.

 

“Is your, um, heart ok?” _Dumbass, what kind of question is that?_

 

“My heart?”

 

“…Yeah. Is your heart ok. Like, physically.”

 

Silence. Then, Tony sat up, pushing Peter gently up, too. 

 

“Pete, look at me for a sec. Listen, I’m not going to lie to you. You know that, right?”

 

Peter nodded, swallowing hard. This is why he didn’t want his question heard in the first place.

 

“My heart has taken a lot of beatings. A surprising amount, actually. You know that, it’s not really any huge secret.”

 

Another nod.

 

“Kid, I can’t make any promises. No one can. But I can assure you that I have done every single thing — _everything possible_ — to make my heart ok. Alright? When I found out about Morgan, I kinda went nuts trying to make sure everything was ready. And I included myself, my health, in that. I wasn’t about to bring a baby into the world and then abandon her and Pepper, got it? And I’ve been keeping up on that. I’m being very careful. When it was just me, I didn’t care as much. But now I have Morgan, and I have you, and I’m planning on sticking around for a long time. So as much control as the universe is gonna let me have, I’m taking. Ok?”

 

“Ok.” Peter didn’t know what else to say beyond that. That was the best answer he could have hoped for, right? So why didn’t that make him feel confident that Tony wouldn’t disappear?

 

“Is that what you’ve been so worried about? That I won’t stay alive?” Peter noticed how Tony didn't say “die”. He nodded tersely and stared at the carpet intently.

 

That was a simple way of putting it. _Yeah, Tony, I’m worried you won’t “stay alive” and that I’ll find your body, or you’ll die in front of Morgan, or when no one is around, and I’ll visit your grave, too_.

 

“Peter.” The tone made him look back up. They looked at each other as Tony obviously fumbled for words, his mouth opening and closing slightly before he finally spoke. “Come here.”

 

No promises could be made in this situation. Peter knew, Tony knew…which made it all the more unbearable to face. So Tony did the only thing he could think of for a grieving teenager who couldn’t lose yet another parent. He pulled him back to the pillow, pushed a hand softly into his kid’s hair, and made no plan to move for the rest of the night.

 

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter! These aren't meant to be in order, so obviously this takes place a little while after things have settled down. Hopefully I'll update soon - I've been reading Irondad fics for, what, a year and a half straight? So I figured it was finally time to put my thoughts out there. I love, love, love Aunt May but she had to go. Shoutout to TheStarvingWriter and their story "I Will Carry You (Always)", I've been reading it for a while now and got some inspo for separation anxiety from it. I had another story about anxiety and Peter going (hits close to home, lemme tell ya) but so much has changed in the MCU since then that I decided to move on to this.  
> Please let me know what you think!


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